


The Other Man

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skyler wants something from Jesse, but she doesn't exactly know what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Man

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Breaking Bad, and I make no money from this.
> 
> A/N: Written for kink bingo, square, "pegging/strapons". 
> 
> Warning: Dubious consent on Jesse's part.

Skyler hadn’t paid Jesse Pinkman too much mind one way or the other since his name had come up in the search for Walt, during that ridiculous “fugue state” charade that he had pulled. But since he had come to dinner, oh, he’d played on her mind in ways that she didn’t want to give voice to, even within the safety of her own mind.

Because maybe that would mean she was as crazy as she was leading Hank and Marie to believe she was, as crazy as Walt would convince them she was. Why was she thinking about Pinkman like that?

After all, she had never seen herself as a “cougar” or anything like that. Or a panther. Or whatever the phraseology was now; apparently there were different levels of things.

“A mountain lion,” she muttered aloud, peeking out of her window as she tapped against her laptop. It seemed as if it had been years since she’d written a story. That had been her dream once, to get published and to have people paying attention to her work. Even just a little write-up in some trendy lit mag. Anything to award her for the time she had put in. 

But she hadn’t written about the kind of things she wanted to type out now. It was all quasi-feminist stuff about women searching for true meaning in a life that had gotten bogged down in so much material nonsense that they didn’t know which way to turn, or they needed to find a life outside of whatever man they had gotten yoked to without knowing what they were getting into.  
What she was thinking of now would probably not get sold in literary magazines, but rather adult bookstores with little metal racks that didn’t smell quite right.

The characters she began typing about were pretty thinly veiled. The protagonist was blonde, in her forties and, Skyler sheepishly included, breathtakingly beautiful. Hell, it was her story, if she wanted to be a total knockout she could be, even if she wasn’t necessarily sure that was the score in real life.

Ted had thought so.

She moved on quickly from that thought and let the next character enter the scene. The young thing. Of age of course, so if she did publish this she wouldn’t get hauled off by Chris Hansen, but he was definitely young and spry. And kind of innocent.

That was a weird thought. How innocent was he when Hank had been out looking for him, when he had sold drugs to Walt (or had that been a cover story? What was even true anymore?), when he was involved in this screwed up life her husband was leading?

Maybe it was something in his eyes.

“She let her silky-blonde hair fall gently over her shoulders. He was looking at her, trying to figure out the mystery behind the faraway look she held in her blue eyes.”

That was stupid, she told herself with annoyance. Teenage-love crap. She had grown far past that these days. She knew now full well that that wasn’t what life was all about.

Try as she might to imagine it, she couldn’t picture what being with Jesse would be all about. Ever since she had begun dating Walt, the only men she had been with had been him and Ted. She’d never seduced a younger man and had no idea how she would go about doing it.

The plot was a wash. She highlighted everything and deleted it. This wasn’t going to go anywhere, and she knew it. She ought to just start over.

And then the phone rang.

She rose from her swivel chair and tilted her head to listen. The Caller ID was new, and it spoke to say who was calling. Most of the time she ducked the calls – they were for old bills they couldn’t pay… on paper, at least. Or they were from telemarketers. Or Walt Jr.’s school trying to set up a conference that Skyler didn’t want to go to – how could she walk back into that school that Walt had taught at and act as if everything was normal, as if nothing at all had changed?

Instead of “Unavailable”, which usually meant that it was a call Skyler wasn’t going to want to answer, the ID announced, “Wireless Caller”. Well, that was interesting. It was probably a wrong number… or maybe it was Walt’s second cell phone.

She scoffed at that. If it was him, she wouldn’t answer. There was no point in giving him the satisfaction of a response. She should treat him like he wasn’t even there, treat him with total disrespect. Then maybe one day he’d get the message and he would do everyone a favor and run off and never come back.

The message picked up: “Hello, we can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave a message.” Some time when the power had gone out, it had deleted their old message, the one saying their names. An old vestige of back when they were a family, before they had become shattered into little bits.

There was a pause, and Skyler figured the caller would just hang up, whoever they were. Maybe it was a wrong number, or some machine telling her that she should vote for Obama or McCain or whoever. 

“Hey, Mr. White. It’s… uh. Hey. It’s me.”

Jesse’s voice. 

Skyler curled her lips in an annoyed fashion. What the hell was he doing, calling here? Especially considering that she had just been thinking about him, in ways that she certainly didn’t want to think about him.

As if her hands were moving independently of the rest of her body, and certainly of her brain, she scooped up the cordless phone and pressed the “answer” button, placing it to her ear. 

“Hello?”

“Oh shit! Mrs. White, ah, hey. I didn’t… realize that you were home. I’m sorry I’ll… call… back later.”

“No, Jesse,” Skyler replied. She smiled, a bit darkly. “My husband isn’t home right now. But would you like to come over?” 

“I… Why do you want me to come over?” Jesse sounded surprised and confused.

“I’d just like to talk to you a little.”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Mrs. White… I’m pretty sure that Mr. White wouldn’t go for it.”

“Nonsense,” Skyler replied, and there was a kind of threat in the word, as if Jesse not coming over would mean that she was going to appear over his house and drag him out in handcuffs, drag him down his steps and into her car and do… do what to him? Why was she thinking these things again? “Be here in a half an hour.” She hung up the phone, hoping he’d believe the threat.

***

Jesse was shivering before her as he sat in the chair across from her, his arms dangling awkwardly over the edge. The shaking was almost imperceptible, but she saw it. She knew. 

“Maybe it would really get him back,” Skyler was suggesting, “I mean it sounds like you want out, don’t you?” Her tone was an attempt at playful, at ignoring what she was really suggesting here, what she was really thinking about. That she wanted to ultimately fuck over both Walt and this partner of his, but not in a way that actually harmed either one.

She was still too held back to actually try and really harm Walt. Maybe one that that wouldn’t be true, though. Maybe one day, when he was weaker, when she knew he wouldn’t be able to fight back, she’d wait until he was sleeping and press a pillow over his face. Call it in, hysterical, and let everyone assume the illness got to him, that it was too much for him. 

“I do, but what you’re proposing, Mrs. White… It’s crazy. Like… totally Looney Tunes. There’s no way… I mean, you might not have noticed but your husband can be a pretty bad dude when he wants to be.”

Skyler let out a bitter laugh. Oh, she knew all right, and wished she didn’t. Then again, blissfully ignorant wasn’t a place she wanted to be, either.

“Are you really that much under his thumb?” she accused. “Why don’t you… oh, what’s the expression… grow a pair?”

Jesse glared at her.

“Oh, so you just invited me here to insult me? Guess it runs in the family.”

“Pinkman…” Skyler looked at him. “Shut up. Maybe you’ve just been sitting here and waiting for my husband to… to…” She let the phrase trail off in mid-air. “I can give you what you want from my husband.”

Jesse crossed one leg over the other, looking more uncomfortable as the conversation continued, but seemingly without the wherewithal to get up and actually just leave. Maybe he thought it would be rude, or maybe he’d just given up somehow. 

Skyler rose from her own spot and went over to the cabinet, fiddling with a doorknob that always stayed locked in case Junior went looking for paperclips or something innocuous like that. If he found it, he’d think it was a drawer that just didn’t open. She was the only one who knew how to turn it… just so. 

She could have moved this thing upstairs, of course, and she didn’t totally know why she didn’t. Maybe it was a side of herself that she had always wanted to keep hidden even from Walt. Because there wasn’t any way that Walt would have ever gone for this. 

The drawer opened at last and Skyler held up a purple phallus (purchased on a dare from Marie on a girl’s night months before) from which hung a fuchsia-color strap. She held it up without comment, and Jesse’s eyes went wide.

“Uhh… Mrs. White? Why are you showing that to me? I don’t really think that…”

“Jesse. Bedroom. Now.”

She barked the order out instinctively, but somehow it did the trick. Jesse was up with a start and he was leading the way up the stairs, a look on his face that she couldn’t quite read. She had to wonder why he’d reacted so quickly to that tone of voice – had to be something that Walt did. Then she began to wonder what exactly he and Walt got up to together.

She blocked the door once the two of them were inside, and she could hear Jesse start to hyperventilate. She was scaring him… she didn’t want to do that, exactly. 

“Jesse,” she said firmly, “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you, and I won’t tell Walt about this.” His eyes were as wide as saucers. “I just… need this from you, and I don’t want to explain or analyze, I just want to do it. Does that make sense to you?”

Jesse let out a breath that Skyler suspected he’d been holding for a very long time now.

“Yes, it makes sense to me. I… I guess I’ll do it.” He didn’t sound all that convinced, but he agreed anyway. “It’s been… a long time since anyone has touched me. I think…” He seemed to shut himself up, perhaps assuming that Skyler didn’t care to hear his reasons.

In all honesty, she probably didn’t. Her own reasons were conflicted enough, were screwed up enough.

“Lay down on the bed and get undressed,” she instructed. “We’re going to do this. But lie I said, I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Jesse complied. He was breathing so loudly that it was rattling in her ears, and she went back to coaxing. Maybe the kid really was just that afraid, and maybe she shouldn’t be doing this. The whole thing just wasn’t right, in a way. She needed to let this obsession go, tell the kid to go home and to forget it.

But she didn’t.

She put a hand on Jesse’s ass, stroking it softly.

“I won’t hurt you,” she whispered again, “I promise. I’ll be gentle.”

Jesse didn’t sound all that convinced, but nonetheless he made a sound of assent, pressing his face against the pillow like it was the last rock in a flood that was threatening to pull him away forever.

She went to another drawer, one she hadn’t looked in for quite some time now, and went to retrieve a bottle of lube. She looked at her long fingers, at the nails, and reminded herself to keep careful – she didn’t want to send Jesse home with scratches in that particular part of his body. If she wanted a repeat performance, that would not be the way to get it.

Skyler lubed up a finger and began to stroke it gently down Jesse’s crack, making the touches light and feathery. She knew he wanted to tense up, knew he wasn’t totally on board with this even if he had ultimately agreed. She tried to feel guilty for that but found that she couldn’t – maybe Walt had taken so much from her that she needed to get her power back from whatever piece of him was close at hand, or maybe she just needed this for reasons she wouldn’t understand, even years later. 

She slipped in the first finger, feeling him tense hard but not stopping until she was safely past the ring. He would adjust… he had to. If he didn’t… Maybe that was a sign that she should just send him home, on his way, and never talk about this to anyone ever. 

But no, without a word or any sound apart from a few gasps, she felt him loosen up, shifting against the bed in a way that made her start to feel warm down below, in a way that made her want to see more of what young Jesse Pinkman could do.

She moved her hand back to slick up a second finger; she removed her wedding ring and placed it on the nightstand before continuing, trying not to focus too hard on what it meant.

She slid the two fingers in, and Jesse moaned again. The sound he made traveled downward again, like her clit was starting to thump like a strobe light, like the bass in a nightclub. This time, Skyler didn’t question why.

She pulled back and must have questioned whether he was ready, because he moaned out, “Yes,” like he wasn’t unsure at all anymore and now wanted to get right to it. Or maybe that was all in her imagination because her mind had become as filled with shades of gray as Walt’s was these days.

She shook her fingers to get rid of the excess moisture, before beginning to lube up the strap-on, brushing shades of gray from her mind and focusing on the moment at hand, the moment of power, of want. 

The moment of Jesse Pinkman writhing sweetly under her touch.

She wrapped the harness around her hips and snapped it shut at the back, wishing it were Walt here, wishing it was Walt she had some kind of power over.  
Skyler lined up the plastic cock with Jesse’s hole, which was looking kind of red as she gazed at it, but perhaps that was just the light. That was something to keep in mind if she wrote this up, red in the light, the right light, red light.

_Stop._

He hadn’t said the words and if there was one thing she’d learned about Pinkman it was that where Walt was concerned, he wouldn’t. He didn’t dare.

She pushed in. Jesse groaned, grunted, strained to relax. Made sounds that might have been the start to no but could never quite get off the ground.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, “You’re okay.” Maybe that helped because she could see Jesse start to relax, start to slump against the bed more and not tense as much. That was good. This was good.  
She pulled back and pushed in again without asking Jesse if he was ready to continue. She earned another groan from him, whether of pain or pleasure she wasn’t quite sure. It was of something. Her own body seemed turned on to the max, lit up like a Christmas tree and she reached down to touch, then even to flick at her clit. She was close without even realizing it; two more thrusts into Jesse and she found herself cumming at what was only a soft, gentle touch. 

In the afterglow of her orgasm, she looked down at Jesse, as if only seeing him for the first time. There were tears in his eyes, and his hands were bunched into fists.

She pulled out, set the thing aside, and looked down at him.

“You’d better run along before Walt comes back.” She reached down and threw him his close with too-moist hands that smelled of something she didn’t want to put a name to. “He’d kill you if he found you here.”


End file.
